


Motes & Motors: Polaris and the Lion

by martieek



Series: Motes & Motors [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Greasers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Foreign Language, Implied Sexual Content, Insecurity, Kissing, M/M, Metaphors, Sensuality, Tattoos, i hate tagging i never know what to put
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 07:37:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14492040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/martieek/pseuds/martieek
Summary: Shiro gets better at communicating the things he feels so deeply, and Matt (tries) getting better at metaphors.





	Motes & Motors: Polaris and the Lion

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for another sort of angsty one, I SWEAR it wasn't my intention, these things just happen sometimes. But I promise it's less, uhh,,, intense? than the last one? some emotional baggage, but I even added some fluff for balance (and indulgence). :^P I hope you enjoy!
> 
> BTW, I keep forgetting to link this, but if it interests you, I have a Motes & Motors playlist on [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/asilverboy/playlist/2q1FmNMVJZJSTvNNbhNTdN?si=U7ZOLOkSTnaIClYTC_PfVQ)! I tinker with it intermittently, so some songs might appear/disappear, but it's a pretty good collection of vibes for the AU.

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”  Shiro’s tone was sympathetic, but his eyes were playful as he cleared the take-out remains from the coffee table.  Matt admired Shiro’s dedication to keeping the house tidy despite his greasy, less-than-elegant profession. He mused, _Must be that whole balance-of-nature thing; clean something for every mess he makes._

Matt knew it wasn’t a big deal, but his stupid ego wouldn’t let this brush by.  “Easy for you to say, Mr. I Just Finished Getting A Whole-Ass Sleeve.”

“Please, that was my father’s name.  Call me Shiro.”

“I hate you, honestly,” muttered Matt, immediately disproving that statement by standing to help clean.  There wasn’t much left to take care of—in fact, Shiro had gotten it all—but he was flustered and needed to do something with his fidgety limbs.  His hand moved to adjust his glasses out of habit, still forgetting he’d switched to contacts after his last pair broke. He just rubbed his eyebrow instead.

“Really, Matt, lots of people get freaked out by needles.”  Shiro affectionately brushed Matt’s elbow, moving to lean against the refrigerator.  “There’s always temporary tattoos.”

Matt tossed Shiro some side-eye, but he was quickly losing his edge.  “I just wish I told her to stop _before_ she broke the skin.  What am I supposed to do with this lone blue dot?”

“It’s a north star tattoo.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“No, seriously, look.”  Shiro headed back toward the living room, Matt taking a few wary steps after him.  He turned to wave a pen at Matt as if encouraging him to pay attention to a magic trick before uncapping it, gently taking Matt’s arm.

“What are you—” Matt began, but Shiro didn’t allow his protest.

“Here,” he said, drawing thoughtful lines between the faint freckles on Matt’s forearm.  Matt stayed still as he could, observing with morbid curiosity as Shiro’s steady hands carefully illustrated what Matt eventually recognized as a close-enough Ursa Minor—or rather, just the Little Dipper if he were to get technical.

Shiro connected the last line to the ink dot Matt had been so worked up over.  “See?” he said, adding smaller lines radiating from the spot for emphasis. “Polaris.”  He looked up as if to add, _I told you so._

Matt was both endeared and taken aback.  “How did you know that’s how those dots could connect?”

“I notice patterns,” Shiro said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.  When he caught Matt’s questioning look, he grew a bit sheepish. “Well, working with machinery, you learn to pay attention to detail.”  He lifted Matt’s arm to better show him the tiny drawing, and also to probably change the subject. “There, now you’ll never get lost.”

“Quit turning everything into a metaphor, you dork.”

Smiling, Shiro regarded Matt with curious scrutiny, eyes passing over his face and arms.   _Looking for new constellations?_ Matt thought, charmed.

Matt leaned into Shiro for what was meant to be a quick kiss, but Shiro held him fast at the waist before he could pull back.  Matt stifled a surprised giggle as Shiro’s hands wandered to his hips, then his ass, a bold move for Shiro that brought heat to Matt’s face.

Kissing Matt hard in the way he loved but never actually said, Shiro pushed him back into the wall.  Calloused fingers breached the hem of Matt’s shirt, grazing the skin at his waist then up and down his back to make Matt shiver with a thrill.  Matt trailed his own hands across Shiro’s shoulders, down his chest, up to his neck, wanting to feel all of him at once.

The kissing was so different this time, heated and hungry, and Matt got a little lightheaded from the rush of it.  Shiro let his hands explore more freely than he had in a long time, one running through Matt’s hair—against the grain to scratch his scalp in the way Matt had forgotten he liked so much.  A pleasant chill arched his back in response to the sensation, and he sighed into Shiro’s desperate kiss, eager.

_Is this…?  Are we gonna...?_

When they broke apart for air, Shiro's knee was warm against Matt's thigh as he propped him against the wall.  Heart pounding, Matt tried desperately not to think about where Shiro’s knee was. His hands held Shiro's face, whose expression seemed darker now, almost brooding.  Matt always had trouble identifying if he was sad or just thoughtful. Wanting to clear his head either way, Matt kissed Shiro again, love like a roar in his chest.

Shiro moved his hands to Matt’s face, kissing back softer than before, slower.  They hadn’t said anything, and Matt was afraid to break the electric silence now.  He tried to read Shiro without words, but Matt, admittedly, was better at working with facts rather than inference.

Matt flushed when Shiro moved his face to Matt’s neck, pulling him into a tight embrace—then stayed still.  Confused, Matt hugged back. After a moment, he felt Shiro start to shake underneath him.

_…Is he crying?_

“Shiro?” Matt finally whispered, but even that seemed too loud.  Shiro’s only response was to hold Matt even closer, burying his face deeper in the crook of Matt’s neck.  Matt felt another flush, heat of passion turning into the heat of anxiety as he tried to unlatch Shiro from their vice-like embrace to look at him.  Shiro did let go, but he made it a point to hide his face as he moved to sit on the couch.

Matt stepped closer, reaching a hand out, but he drew back at the last minute.   _Maybe it was me?_  “Shiro, what’s wrong?”

Shiro had angled himself away from Matt, palms pressed to his forehead as he trembled with more intensity as moments passed.

Matt’s voice cracked with concern.  “Shiro, please talk to me.”

Taking a breath as if he was about to speak, Shiro only let out a sob before tucking into himself tighter.

On impulse as his stomach dropped, Matt hurried to sit next to Shiro, holding him in a bit of an awkward embrace with the way they were both positioned.  All of Matt’s instincts screamed, _Do something!_

But he didn’t know what to do.  He didn’t know what to do, and he hated it because he had always been a problem-solver.  Matt knew how to assess variables and create hypotheses and come to the correct solutions.  But that was all on paper, in labs, on computers. Controlled environments, everything objective.  Shiro wasn’t a math problem, he wasn’t a _problem_ at all.  But Matt still felt the overwhelming desire to fix whatever was wrong.

“Tell me what you need, Shiro.”

Shiro shook his head, still refusing to look at Matt, but he turned his body to make it easier for Matt to hold him.  As if the movement released something inside him, Shiro stopped trying to hold himself together, crying into Matt’s chest as he clutched at his shirt.

Fighting his own tears, Matt felt his heart physically shattering, and all he wanted was to make it better.  He’d never seen Shiro like this. He knew Shiro carried some heavy burdens, even if he wasn’t exactly sure what they were.  Shiro probably had an entire lifetime Matt knew nothing about, but that wasn’t important right now.  Matt stopped trying to ask questions.  Whatever had happened, Shiro had obviously reached a breaking point, and Matt would wait for however long he needed, however much it hurt being unable to do more.

Matt shifted on the couch, wordlessly indicating to Shiro to lie down with him on their sides.  Shiro tucked himself close to Matt in an almost-fetal position, Matt’s arms acting like a shield against whatever monsters he couldn’t see.

It wasn’t clear how long they had lain like that, but Matt felt himself growing tired as Shiro’s racking sobs eased into hitching breaths.  Eyes closed, Matt had been stroking Shiro’s hair with gentle rhythm, though he didn’t remember when he’d started doing that. His wrist ached but not enough for him to stop.

As Shiro settled, Matt was conflicted between the need to stay still with him and the need to get him water and tissues and whatever other tiny remedies he could offer.  A bit of his tension eased when Shiro moved himself to grab the tissue box at the opposite end of the coffee table. Matt sat up slowly, as if trying not to startle an animal, involuntarily hunching close with the need to keep hold of Shiro.

Assuming Shiro wouldn’t mind the brief privacy to wipe his face, Matt went to the bathroom and both filled a paper cup and wet a rag with cool water to bring back to Shiro who looked to be breathing easier now, even if exhausted.

Shiro’s features eased in a way that told Matt the rag felt good on his hot face.  His shoulders hunched slightly as Matt moved the rag around his skin. Matt wasn’t sure how much of his flush was from crying or from being ashamed of crying.

After a possible eternity, Shiro let out a sound that Matt realized was supposed to be a laugh.  “Damaged goods,” he said, voice scratched raw.

“Nah,” Matt said, scooting closer and balling up the rag, now warm from Shiro’s skin.  He rested his head on Shiro’s shoulder, linking an arm through his. He wasn’t as poetic as Shiro often proved to be, but he tried.  “More like, hand-crafted. Inherently imperfect, but that’s what makes it special, and real.”

“Now look who’s making the metaphors.”

Matt smiled, sad, lifting his head to turn Shiro’s so their eyes could meet.  Embarrassed, Shiro’s gaze fell a few times, but Matt’s stayed firm and patient until Shiro was able to hold the contact.

“Sorry,” Shiro whispered.

Matt shook his head sympathetically.  “Don’t do that. Just talk to me.”

Another apology shadowed Shiro’s features, but he hesitated to speak.

“Did I do something wrong?” Matt prompted, genuinely doubting himself.

Almost too eagerly, Shiro shook his head.  “No, no. You’re perfect.”

“That’s not true but go on.”

Shiro shook his head again, looking as if he didn’t know what was wrong either.  Eyes drifting from Matt’s, Shiro’s expression became bewildered, frustrated. Matt didn’t force him to look back, but he held Shiro’s arm a little tighter.  “No hurry,” he assured, head to Shiro’s shoulder once more. “I’ll be here.”

Matt didn’t keep track of time passing, but it had been long enough for him to assume Shiro wasn’t going to say anything after all.  Carefully, he repositioned himself when his leg started going numb. Jolting as if from a daze, Shiro took a shaky breath, still avoiding Matt’s eyes.

“I think you should go.”

It didn’t register with Matt right away; it didn’t make sense.  “What?”

Shiro’s voice became steadier, but remained soft.  “I think it’d be for the best if you left.”

Matt’s mind refused to understand.  “What do you mean? Shiro, tell me what’s wrong.”

Shiro rubbed his eyes.

“Shiro, I want to help you.  Just tell me what’s going on.   _Please._ ”  Matt clenched his teeth when the last word cracked his voice.

Desperation creased Shiro’s face when he finally managed to look up, voice raised enough to make Matt flinch.  “You’re not safe with me, Matt. I’m not—You deserve better than this.”

“Shiro, what is—”  Matt’s own desperation pitched his voice.  This wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “What, you think I’m still here because I don’t know what I’m doing?  Just because I haven’t lived the same kind of life as you doesn’t mean I’m naïve. I’m here because I _want_ to be.”   

“I can’t protect you.”

“Is about the fight with Dax?  Shiro, you don’t have to _protect me_.”  In a fit, Matt rose to his feet, pacing to the other side of the table.  The urge to shake some sense into Shiro made his breath catch, but seeing the pain lacing Shiro’s face brought Matt down from his frustration with a sigh.  “You’re acting like I should be afraid of you, but it’s obvious you’re the one who’s scared.”

Shiro’s shoulders slumped some, making him look frailer than Matt was used to.  “I’m sorry,” he said, pausing as if expecting Matt to cut him off like he always did when he began apologizing.  Matt didn’t interrupt this time, so Shiro continued with what seemed like immense effort. “You’re right; I am scared.  I don’t—I’m not sure how to do this.”

Matt, feeling like lightyears of space now separated them, took the few steps back to sit next to Shiro once more.  “Do what, Shiro? What are you so afraid of? Me?”

Shiro’s eyes searched Matt’s as if the right words were in there somewhere.  He pressed on, deliberate at first until the words soon started pouring out, all tumbling over one another.  “I’m scared of losing you, Matt. After seeing you get hurt, I—I didn’t—I couldn’t stop thinking about what could have happened, how things could have ended differently, and it made me—”  He had to steady himself. “Matt, I don’t want to lose you because I know I’d lose myself.”

“I had to see you get hurt that night, too, Shiro,” Matt said, voice taut.  “You think that didn’t scare me, not being able to do anything, how that felt?”  Matt took a breath, feeling himself grow shaky just thinking back to seeing Shiro getting pinned and hit on the pavement.  “Why do you think I started working out and taking those training classes with Pidge?”

Shiro seemed taken aback.  “Matt, I—”

“I’ve had to see you show up over and over again all beaten and bruised, so you think it doesn’t scare me every time I don’t see you for a few days, and then I hear about more street violence from Dad or the news, thinking it’s entirely possible you could be dead in an alley somewhere and I wouldn’t even know?”  Matt stopped to breathe, realizing he’d been gradually getting louder as he tensely voiced his fears.

“Matt, I didn’t… I never—”

“I don’t want to lose you either, Shiro.”  Matt fiercely held Shiro’s gaze. “There’s nothing you’re risking that I’m not risking too.  It’s fifty-fifty; that’s how this is supposed to work.”

Then Matt, softening, got an idea—maybe a stupid one, but he felt compelled to follow through.  “Here.” Matt grabbed the pen from the table, holding his drawn-on arm at a particular angle next to Shiro’s.

Finding the correct juxtaposition, Matt began making approximate measurements, drawing dots and lines with unnecessary precision to form the Big Dipper on Shiro’s arm.  The way Matt had aligned their hands made the ink mirror the real stars’ placement in the sky.

“There,” said Matt, satisfied.  “For navigation purposes.” To clarify, Matt traced his finger in a line from the dots meant to represent Dubhe and Polaris.  “So we can always find each other. If we get lost, at least we’ll be lost together.” Saying it made him feel like a greeting card, but it came so easily that it had to have been the right thing to say.

When Matt looked up, he saw Shiro’s smile grow solemn.  “I just… I don’t know if I can be what you want me to be.”

“Takashi,” Matt said with emphasis, taking Shiro’s face in his hands.  “I want _you_.  I want you to be _you,_  whoever _you_ need that to be.”  He offered an encouraging smile and a loving faux-punch against Shiro’s jaw.  “You have to trust me. We’re in this _together_.”

After a heartfelt pause, Shiro leaned forward to kiss Matt, tender in a way that filled Matt with a sense of comfort and hope.

When they separated, Matt’s optimism wavered as he watched Shiro’s expression grow intense.  He spoke, hushed but firm, catching Matt off-guard. “I want you.”

Staring blankly, Matt took a moment before registering what Shiro meant.  He felt his heart speed up as he searched Shiro’s face, waiting for further explanation in case maybe he misunderstood, but Shiro’s only elaboration was to trail a hand along Matt’s jaw before pulling him close again.

Matt, immediately lost in the moment—and forgetting words were a thing—wasted no time shifting his legs so he could straddle Shiro’s lap.  Holding his weight in his knees to lean into Shiro’s kiss, he overshot and threw off their balance. Shiro, lying back into the couch cushions, muffled a laugh as Matt remained adamantly fastened to Shiro’s face.

Regaining a bit of control, Matt came up for air with belated hesitation.  “Are you sure?” he whispered, thinking back to all the times this had almost happened but didn’t because Shiro always changed his mind last minute.  Matt realized now that probably had to do with his fear of getting close.

“Yeah,” Shiro said, his tension finally ebbing, hands steady at Matt’s hips.  “Or is this not a good time for you?”

Not bothering to offer a witty rebuttal, Matt fused their mouths again.  Wanting to take things at what he thought would be Shiro’s pace, he kept the kisses slow and deep.  Shiro’s fingers teased at the hem of Matt’s shirt, which Matt impatiently peeled off before trailing his lips to Shiro’s neck.

Matt rocked gently in Shiro’s lap, feeling his hands trace up his spine and tangle into his hair, gripping but not pulling, and Matt smiled into the skin just under Shiro’s jaw.  Matt moved a hand to Shiro’s chest, and in a sudden yet smooth motion, Shiro pushed them both off the couch, scooping up Matt with little effort.

Matt let out a surprised laugh as Shiro carried him like a child to the bedroom down the hall, laying him into the mattress with ease.  He began kissing Matt like he had grown starved in the four seconds it took for them to get here.

“Alright, show off,” Matt huffed when Shiro broke contact to pull his tank over his head and toss it aside.  They were already breathless, Shiro holding himself over Matt like a shelter. Matt lightly traced a finger over Shiro’s mouth, almost intimidated by the heat of Shiro’s stare.  Biting his lip, he asked with false nonchalance, “How do you want me?”

“I like this,” Shiro breathed.  “I want to look at you.”

“Do you always have to be so melodramatic?”  Matt tried to hide his own starry eyes with another kiss.

 

* * *

 

Despite his tendency to sleep in late regardless of circumstances, Matt had woken up first, watching the daylight creep in until Shiro blearily opened his eyes to see Matt smiling over at him.

“Hi?” Shiro greeted with uncertainty, voice gravelly from sleep.

Matt, having spent at least an hour staring at his phone screen to drill the pronunciations into his mind, articulated in a very poor Italian accent, “ _Sei la mia stella polare, e ti amo molto._ ”

“What?” Shiro laughed, propping himself up on his elbow to look down at what had to be a stupid grin on Matt’s face.

“It’s Italian,” Matt said, amused with himself.  He ran a finger along the outline of Shiro's jaw, trailing it down his neck and chest.  “I felt like honoring my heritage this fine morning, so I looked it up to make sure it would be the first thing you heard today.”

Shiro took hold of Matt's wrist so he could interlace their fingers.  Playfully suspicious, Shiro ventured, “Okay, I’ll bite.  What does it mean?”

“It roughly translates to, ‘You’re a big loser with a cute butt.’"

Shiro seemed unquestioning.  “Truly one of the romance languages.”

Matt moved to kiss him, holding in a laugh.

 

**Author's Note:**

> and if you look to ur left, you'll notice i'm weak af for when characters say things in a language the other doesn't understand and then lies about the meaning,, 
> 
> if you wanna chat or check out my artwork, you can follow my art blog on tumblr @martieek! :^) thanks for all the continued support with this AU, it's very encouraging! I hope you have a good day!


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